


Forget Me Not

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Amnesia, Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Death, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Natural Disasters, Panic Attacks, Pining, Swearing, Violence, alternative universe, keith is keith, lance doesnt know who he is, they/them pronouns for Pidge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Thanks," the guy says, lips shaping an easy smile, "for saving my life."Keith's eyes widen a fraction before he scoffs. "I didn't save your life. Stop making it sound weird."AU where the world is almost definitely ending and Keith finds himself accidentally looking after a guy who doesn't remember who he is.





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

> based on a dream. enjoy!

Keith glances up at the sky, notices dark storm clouds looming, the faint rumble of thunder in the distance.   
Rain can mean many things. It means getting wet, clothes soaked and boots heavy, footsteps painfully loud as they slap through puddles, feet treading a path towards shelter. 

It could also mean another event. Mudslides, acid rain, floods. Take your pick. 

He scowls, lips pressed into a tight line before surging forward, taking the steps leading up to the hall two at a time, fingers clenched tightly around the straps of his bag. 

There's the general buzz of chatter, people milling around as they talk, arms full of bottled water and canned goods. He makes his way towards the end of the already well-formed queue, shoves his hands into his pockets and taps his foot as he waits. 

Keith had heard about the hall from passers-by days ago. The place to go for food and water and a friendly ear to listen.   
The first two points had captured his attention. He was running low on food, down to half a bottle of lukewarm water and a hand-full of energy bars. It wouldn't be enough to get him where he needed to be.  

 It had been difficult. Ever since the events started, one after the other until there was no respite and they all seemed to roll into one, one big apocalyptic nightmare that had no end in sight.   
It took the electricity first. Suddenly people were unable to make calls, use the internet, microwave their dinners. It had all seemed trivial, something to sort out quickly until cars stopped working, backup generators wouldn't even hum let alone start.   
A plane dropped out of the sky one day before it finally dawned on everyone how serious the situation was.

Nature started turning next. Large groups of birds were seen flocking from all areas of the globe. Bodies of water started slowly dying, the swollen corpses of sea creatures lining the surface of the water for miles, the stench of their putrid flesh assaulting everyone's nostrils.

Then it came for people. Well, some of them. One day around 30% of the population woke up and couldn’t remember anything. Who they were, what was happening, nothing. Thankfully they didn’t have long to dwell on it before all hell broke loose and everyone was busy trying to figure out how not to die. 

Something catches Keith’s attention and he turns to it before his mind turns to what happened that fateful day. He’s grateful for the distraction, secretly pleased he doesn’t have to replay it in his mind for what feels like the thousandth time.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, isn’t aware if it was the lack of movement in such a packed place or the fact that whoever he’s looking at doesn’t seem that bothered about the situation they’re in but suddenly they have Keith’s full gaze on them. Not that they’d notice.

The boy? Man? He looks around Keith’s age anyway, is just sitting there. Literally just sitting with his back against the wall, face tipped up towards the ceiling. He has nothing on him save for the clothes on his back, plain white t-shirt under a hooded green jacket, thick orange bands of fabric on the upper arms. His jeans are a faded blue, the tongues of his high-top sneakers drooping downwards. Keith can’t really make out his face apart from the side profile made up of sharp, angular lines, his features graced by light brown skin and a flop of brown hair.

Keith scowls, his default expression. What the hell is wrong with the guy? Had he officially lost it? Not that he was judging. The world going to shit around you is a pretty good reason to lose all hope but like, seriously? He doesn’t even have a bag on him! No supplies! How does he aim to survive out there without anything?   
In case… Keith’s jaw clenches and he realises he’s shaking, teeth baring down painfully against each other.   
Maybe he doesn’t wanna survive? Maybe he’s given up?

 “Hey, tough guy. What kinda supplies will you be needing?”

 “I-w-what?”

 “Supplies. You know, to live?”

 It’s only then that Keith realises he’s reached the front of the queue. A massive hulk of a man is standing before him, arms so close to breaking free from the confines of their shirt as he waits for Keith to talk. Despite his looming figure his face is open, kind eyes concealing a hint of mischief. 

“Oh, ugh, yeah. Supplies. Sorry, I was-“  
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” the man dismisses Keith’s words with a wave of his hand, a crooked smile breaking across his face. “Everyone’s got a lot on their minds. It’s to be expected. Names Blaytz.”

He takes the extended hand offered to him. “Keith.”  
“Alright Keith, what’ll it be?”

 

*

 

His bag is satisfyingly full as he slings it across his back, makes his way towards the exit before stopping.   
Keith’s eyes are drawn back to the guy in the corner before he can stop himself. He’s still sitting like that, face still tilted upwards and before Keith can stop himself he’s already stomping a path towards him.

_“What are you doing?”_ he hisses, the venom is his words enough to make anyone cringe.

The guy flinches, startled before lowering his face and for a moment everything stops for Keith, mouth slightly agape as he stares, taken aback by the darkest blue he’s ever seen staring back at him, lips that seem to form the easiest smirks and a sharp, slightly upturned nose.

 “What are _you_ doing?” he counters smoothly and Keith almost chokes on his tongue. Not staring. _Definitely_ not staring. Also, definitely not hoping the guy speaks again because he likes the way his voice sounds.

 “I asked first.” Keith groans internally. How old is he? Why did he just say that?  
The guy doesn’t seem to notice. Instead he nods as if Keith just won the debate of the century.

“Touché.”

 “What?”

 “What?” The guy shoots back, face an image of complete innocence and Keith blinks. This guy is definitely not okay.

Before he can even think of what to say he hears rather than feels the ground beneath him rumble, the sound faint before the entire building rocks on its foundations. The few panicked cries from the first wave turn into full blown screams of terror as the building rocks again, sends Keith flying into the guy who somehow has the speed to raise his hands, steady him.   
Keith is already moving, pushing himself further into the corner as the crowd stampede, crush everything beneath their feet as they run for the main doors, the sudden rush causing a funnel, their bodies causing a seal so thick no one can get through.   
The fear will kill them before anything else, Keith knows it. Has seen it so many times before. The screams and shrieks are so loud he has the urge to curl up into a ball, press his hands against his ears but he fights it as another rumble tears through the hall.

The emergency exit.

It presents himself to him as soon as he thinks of it, almost as if waiting. The fluorescent green sign at the back of the hall, a fallen bag near it and before he has the chance to doubt himself the guy’s wrist is locked between his fingers and he’s pulling him up, yelling at him to stand, to run.

 

*

 

"Thanks," he smiles, lips turned upwards at the corners, "for saving my life."

Keith's eyes widen a fraction before he scoffs, turns away. "I didn't save your life. Stop making it sound weird.”

“Come on,” he pushes the bag further up his back before walking forward, “we should get going.”

 There are a few moments of silence, the guy walking a couple of steps behind Keith before he speaks up.

 “Where we going?”

 “North,” Keith answers sharply, hoping the word is enough to sate him.

“What’s North?” Obviously not. 

“Somewhere I need to be.”

 “Are you looking for someone?”

 Keith’s footsteps falter, shoulders tense as he turns around. The guy takes a step back at the expression on his face.

“I,” he bites his bottom lip, worries it between his teeth before sighing. “I need to find my friends.”

 “Oh.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Don’t worry. We’ll find them!”   
Keith blinks. The guy looks positively high, eyes wide as he hurries forward, slings an arm casually across Keith’s shoulder and he stiffens but the guy either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it.

 “What makes you so sure?” The suspicion in his voice definitely doesn’t go unnoticed.  

 “Aw, come on! Have a little faith, man! We’ll find them as long as my name is-“ he stops, draws his arm back.

 “You don’t remember your name, do you?” Keith tries to keep a straight face; the kicked puppy look the guy is giving him not helping.

 “No. I don’t.”

 “We could, I dunno, give you a name?” Why is he doing this? Standing around with some guy when he could be making his way towards his friends. Towards safety.   
He doesn’t get it, but the way the guy’s face lights up at his suggestion is enough to distract him.

 “That’s a great idea!”

 “How about Guy?”

 “What?”

 “Guy.”

 “Why Guy?”

 “Because you’re the guy who lost his memory. The guy who doesn’t seem to shut up and has no sense of personal space an-“

 “Alright, ok! Damn. Guy it is, then.”  

 “Great.” Keith allows a small smile, a genuine smile to slip across his face before he rears it back in before Guy can notice, pick up on it, comment and take apart the gesture until Keith regrets everything.

 “Let’s get going, Guy.”


	2. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith and lance, who doesn't actually remember his name so he's called guy for now, live another day

Keith loses track of how long they walk for, the deep orange sky and Guy’s complaints behind him finally indicating just how late it is. The street they find themselves on is deserted save for cars randomly dispersed across it like abandoned toys, some finding themselves on front gardens, doors wide open.

 

*

“My friends. Shiro, Pidge and Matt and Allura. We got separated. I have to find them.”

"If it wasn't for Pidge," Keith shakes his head, ducked between his knees, "things would've been a lot worse."

"We, we were on our way out of town. Towards camp Voltron. We stopped off at a gas station, a last minute thing. That's when it happened."

 

*

"This... noise. Ringing. Came out of nowhere. It… hurt. Like something was drilling straight through your ears and into your brain. People just... fell where they stood. Blacked out. Guess I did too because the next minute I was picking myself up off the floor with blood trickling out my ears. My friends," he pauses, swallows past the lump in his throat. "They were gone. The ringing only lasted a minute but they were gone."  
 

*

“Pidge is obsessed with conspiracy theories. Whenever they’re not studying or in class it always comes back to that. I didn’t know half the stuff they were into, didn’t really want to in case the FBI showed up at our door one day or something.”

 

*

“They… picked up on something. Some government stuff on a different frequency. This was weeks before anything happened but Pidge being Pidge…” Keith sighs, runs the palm of his hand over his face as if to wipe away at the exhaustion laced into every fibre of his skin.

 

*

“They noticed something. We all just kind of went along with it because it was such a Pidge thing to do. They usually obsess over something for a while before moving on but this time it was different. And then went stuff started happening… that’s when it hit us.”

 

*

Keith wakes up with a dry mouth and a crick in his neck. The sun has barely risen, the slants between the broken blinds offering up a navy blue sky, small streaks of pink and purple slashed across it like paint.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” comes a voice to his left and he lets out a small squeak of terror, hand halfway to his ankle before he turns, finds Guy looking over at him from his place on the bed.

“Oh,” his voice is gruff with sleep, “it’s you.”

“The one and only,” the guy responds with a smile in his voice and Keith frowns, brows furrowed as he ignores him, chooses to slip off the bed instead and wriggle into his boots.

“Let’s go.”

 

*

They walk side by side in comfortable silence, the only noise coming from the crinkling of wrappers and plastic bottles as they have breakfast. They walk past a dark alleyway before Keith stops, backtracks, tells Guy to follow him.

 

*

"Pass the pack. Now."

Guy moves, slowly edges a strap down his shoulder and Keith is in front of him, shielding him with his body.

"He's not giving you shit."

The man sneers, spits a large, discoloured glob of mucus at Keith’s feet before advancing.  


Keith is prepared.

  
He moves quickly, ducks, grasps at the two short blades strapped to either ankle and the man freezes, eyes wide, almost bugging out of their sockets at the speed of Keith’s attack, at the sharp, serrated blade an inch away from his throat, the other hovering pointedly below his belt.

 

*  


"You were gonna risk your life for a fucking bag of supplies!"

 "We need those supplies."

 "And I need you! What would've happened if he hurt you? If you died?"

 "You'd move on." 

 

There’s a moment of shocked silence from Guy, face slack as he takes in Keith’s words, processes them until the hurt in his eyes hardens and his mouth twists.

 

"Fuck you, Keith,” he spits vehemently. There are angry tears dancing in the liquid blue of his eyes and Keith wants to kick himself, opens his mouth to say something, anything but Guy has already turned his back to him. He steps over the man groaning in pain, plucks the backpack from the ground and stalks off, never once looks back.

 

Keith hurries after him, almost falling over his own feet in his haste.

“Hey, wait.”

Guy whirls around. _“Don’t touch me.”_

The words are raw, edged with unbridled disgust and Keith flinches, draws his hand back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

“He could’ve hurt you.” Guy’s voice is soft, eyes trained on his shoes.

“He didn’t.”

“But he-“

“But he _didn’t_. I- we’re okay.”

Guy looks up at him then, eyes swimming with unshed tears and Keith’s heart clenches.  
He did this.

  
He swallows, raises a hand slowly and Guy watches at it nears him, doesn’t do anything to stop it. Keith doesn’t really know what he’s doing, doesn’t know whether to place the hand on Guy’s arm or shoulder but his mind must’ve decided for him because the next thing he knows he’s cupping Guy’s cheek, fingers splayed delicately across the warm skin and they both freeze.  
Keith feels the tips of his ears heat up at the same time Guy’s face flushes, the skin underneath his fingers even warmer than before.

He could’ve sworn he heard a small _“oh”_ pass Guy’s lips at the same time he takes a shuddering breathe but he doesn’t have long to dwell on it before Guy’s eyelids flutter in rapid succession, the movement disturbing the tears and they fall as if in slow motion, catch on the tips of Keith’s fingers before running down his gloves.

 Keith wishes he didn’t have to see this. Guy just stands there, lets the tears fall, bottom lip trembling slightly before his mouth falls open and he lets out the most heart wrenching sob that tears at Keith’s insides. He watches Guy try _so_ hard not to fall apart in front of him, as he sucks in the sound he let loose, replaces it with a small whimper.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Keith is speaking, voice steady, determined, angry.

“You hear me?” He’s cupping Guy’s face between both of his hands now, skin damp with tears but he couldn’t care less, only cares about his words getting through.

_Please let them get through._

 “I’m not leaving you. You understand?”

 “You and me. We’ll get through this.”

 “We make a good team.”

“We-“ Keith blinks, watches that beautiful, _beautiful_ smile spread across Guy’s face, at how he seems to glow even though his eyes are faintly ringed with red and his nose is running and for a moment he forgets how to speak.

“This is the part where you tell me to shut up,” Guy adds after a beat and Keith can’t help but roll his eyes because of course he can’t. He doesn’t really know how to help himself around this boy who came out of nowhere and turned his already messed up world even more upside down.

“Shut up,” he grumbles and Guy’s eyes sparkle as he laughs, the sound music to Keith’s ears.

He wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulder, pulls him close and Keith wriggles in his grip, half-heartedly complains about Guy’s gross bodily fluids ruining his jacket and _just_ manages to break out of the now headlock as Guy’s eyes flash with mischief.

If someone had told Keith last week that he’d be running down abandoned streets _willingly_ , breathless with laughter as a boy with sticky fingers and a comical villain’s cackle chased him, he would have probably walked away.

But now, now the world was ending and this boy was the only person he could see himself facing that very real possibility with.

 

*

Somewhere in the night Guy must've shuffled closer because he's practically nuzzled into Keith's shoulder, the side of his face pressed into the leather of his jacket. 

A small smile finds its way onto Keith's face and he lets it, gently spreads the blanket over Guys legs until he's covered from the chill.

Tomorrow’s another day, another day spent walking, finding shelter, drowning out his thoughts however possible and he realises just how thankful he is for Guy, how his insistent droning acts as white noise, the perfect distraction.

Guy is a distraction. Not just with how much he talks but the way in which he was able to slot himself into Keith’s life so easily, almost as if he belonged there.

He’s distracting him from sleep right now, the warmth of his body seeping into Keith, the solid weight of him pressed against his side comforting. Stable. Dependable.

 

Keith should be angry. At himself. At Guy.  
At himself for being foolish enough to help him, to have to share supplies with another person, to risk having to put his neck out to look after someone else.  
At Guy for just… for being there. Call it whatever you want. Fate? Destiny? Being at the wrong place at the wrong time? An inconvenience? He’d felt drawn to him somehow, like… like he _had_ to walk up to him, help him. Be with him.

Now here he was, curled up against his side and a small part of Keith, a tiny part of him feels like he belongs there. By his side. His right hand man. 

He thinks back to Guy’s words earlier that day.

 _We make a good team.”_ He nearly scoffs. Of course they don’t make a good team. They’d met a day ago and already walked into trouble. Had their first fight. How does that  
make them a good team? 

He thinks of how Guy looked after he’d said that. How he was glowing. How something inside Keith had stirred at that image of him. How, somehow, him at that moment… it made that small part of Keith want to believe. He didn’t know in what exactly, it just did.

 

*

Guy had caught up to him eventually with those long legs, had cornered Keith, bundled him against the side of a building until he was stuck between a wall and a hard place, the hard place being all of Guy’s bony edges, his elbows and knees and the sharp planes of his cheekbones and slope of his nose. He was close, too close and Keith didn’t know how to react.  
Guy was completely unaware of this, chatting away as Keith was almost holding his breathe, committing Guy’s face to memory in case he somehow ran out of oxygen and died  
on the spot.

All of this and suddenly Guy was moving, ducking his head, talking into Keith’s neck, _his neck,_ mumbling thanks and something about appreciating him but Keith couldn’t think past the soft lips pressed against his skin, past the pulse point jumping in his throat and how his heart seemed to be falling out his arse and then, _then,_ Guy had pressed the ghost of a kiss against the skin he had spoken against and Keith was pretty sure he’d let out some kind of noise but it was lost in the rushing in his ears.

He just stood there as Guy moved away from him, agonisingly slowly, almost as if he didn’t want to, eyes cast downwards.  
Stood there as he turned his back on him, walked away.

Stood there until Guy looked back over his shoulder, asked him if he was coming and Keith had stumbled forward like a moth drawn to flame.

 

If Guy had looked up at him, what would he have seen?

 

*

He’s thinking too much, shakes his head as if the action will dispel the thoughts somehow. His arm tightens around Guy instinctively and he chances a glance down at him.  
He looks the same sleeping as he does when he’s awake. Maybe a bit more peaceful in slumber but that’s to be expected with the whole end of the world thing.  


He lets himself imagine Guy existing in his old life. Where would he fit in there?  
He’d let Pidge talk his ear off with their latest obsession, patient and open minded because that’s just who he is.  
Flirt with Allura without any shame nor fear of Shiro because shame and fear don’t seem like emotions he possesses.

He would just _be_ there. For everyone but especially for Keith. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does.  
Guy would be there for him like he is now, would chip away at his hard exterior until he’d made a place inside of him for himself. That’s just who he is.

He’d fit in perfectly.

 _Fuck_ , Keith thinks as Guy shuffles in his sleep, moves his face dangerously close to the crook of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith doesn't understand wtf is happening but he's probably falling in love


End file.
